Immunity
by Cassima
Summary: Complete. There's something wrong with Duo--or is there? 1x2, 3x4
1. Symptoms

Immunity, part 1 Immunity By [Cassima][1]

Synopsis: Duo begins acting strangely.

Warnings: Yaoi; 02x01 and 03x04 pairings; angst; violence. Not beta-ed.

Rating: PG-13 for yaoi, violence, and possibly some language. If you don't know what yaoi is, you probably don't want to keep reading.

I'm sorry there's no sex, but Heero's hormones keep talking about sex, so that should pacify you.

Author's note: My first Gundam Wing ficcie. Woo-hoo!

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_God was my copilot, but we crashed into the mountains and I had to eat him._

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If he had been an ordinary man, Heero would have fidgited.

It wasn't really his style, though, so he settled for deepening his scowl and eyeing his scanners distastefully, as if it were their fault, the wretched things. How he hated those scanners. It was irrational hate, though, so he strove to quench it, to stonewall it out. Besides, the Perfect Soldier felt no emotions, especially not towards pieces of dumb equipment that never showed him what he wanted to see and kept thrusting the pestering truth in front of his eyes so he couldn't ignore it. It was a real shame; he did ignorance so well. "We have to go."

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Quatre protested feebly from his perch in Sandrock. His voice was as tired and strained as the rest of the pilots felt, and Heero could see him absently rub at his exhausted eyes through the tiny viewscreen. "Just a little while longer."

Heero's impatience grew exponentially with every passing second. Oz's forces were gathering around them in a naggingly familiar but somehow too obscure to recognize formation who's counter suggested a hasty retreat--a retreat that was soon to become impossible. "We have to go n--"

"Heero, he's coming!" Quatre interrupted, a dollop of concern and a dusting of relief melding into his voice.

Sure enough, the whoop and holler of the Shinigami pilot crackled through the radio, and Duo's face flickered onto the screen, obscured by a slight fuzzing of the transciever. "Sorry, guys," he cackled, "But Death had a few unschedueled visits to make." His expression was almost too brazen.

His gundam moved in a slight jerking pattern, and Heero frowned again. The baka must have been quite off his game if he had allowed *that* much damage to his precious Shinigami. But, there would be time aplenty for stern recriminations later. "Let's go," he said instead, voice ever hard and unconcerned, and began to maneuver Wing Zero back to their hideout.

Duo let fly with another one of his normal death threats to Oz, Romafeller, and guys who looked at him funny, and followed suit.

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_Two Weeks Later_

Something was wrong with Duo.

Normally, Heero would chalk it up to the American being himself and forget it, but the fact that he had noticed was surprising enough to make him meditate on it.

No, Duo was still doing the single, non-practical braid. He was still donning the uncharacteristically somber priest's clothing in the morning. He was still talking too much while Heero was trying to work.

But, still, something was off.

He was a little quieter, as if he were thinking more. Some of the old jokes were gone, and the ones that remained seemed to just repeat over and over--worse than normal. He just didn't seem... like Duo. His words and actions lacked their usual spontineity; it was almost as if he planned everything to say, had every contingency accounted for.

There was something in his eyes--a coldness, as if he had frozen out all outside influences. It could have been a hardness, even, as if he had seen something that had jabbed his heart--severed it's connection to the rest of him. It was close to blankness, as if he were going through all the motions and feeling nothing. No, Heero told himself sternly, you're not going to think about that baka right now. Concentrate on the problem at hand.

Unfortunately for the mission, though, Duo remained firmly fixed in his mind. At first, he had found the boy an annoyance to be frustratingly tolerated, despite several death threats and an unhealthy amount of rolling his eyes. Now, however... Heero found that Duo was tolerated more... easily. It was almost a--joy to tolerate him. Duo's like a virus, he mused. After a while, you just can't get sick of him.

"_Iie!_" he yelled at his wandering thoughts, wondering where all his drilled discipline had scampered off to. It took so little to get himself off track nowadays... so frustratingly little. Heero's eyes bored into the flickering white screen of his computer, and he reluctantly forced his attention back to the problem at hand: the recent Oz tactics.

Oz had been pulling some odd stunts lately--frustratingly familiar but somehow unattainable by a fickle memory--and to know how to best attack these strategies, he needed to know the person calling the shots. Sending out a quick email to a source of his, LazerEye, he shut down his computer and decided to ask Quatre if he'd noticed Duo's odd behavior over the past two weeks, ever since the three of them had returned from that one mission.

Coolly, he stood and walked downstairs to find Quatre predictably meditating on some tea. "Heero," the other boy murmured as he opened his eyes. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Something's wrong with Duo," Heero said bluntly.

Quatre blinked and shook himself out of whatever revire he had been in. "I hadn't noticed anything."

"He's acting funny. Quiet, for him. And he talks funny."

"Tea?"

"Hn." His eyes flickered down to the teacup in front of him before he grunted and settled down in the chair next to the Arabian.

Quatre poured him a cup and refilled his own. "Heero... have you ever noticed that Duo... well..." the blond boy struggled to explain. "He... _likes_ you?"

Heero blinked. This was not the trauma story he had been expecting. "Huh?"

"Duo has strong..." Quatre blushed and looked away, taking a big gulp of tea. "I really think you should talk to him."

Heero shrugged. "Hn."

"In fact, the sooner the better. You never know when the next mission might come up." Quatre's eyes fixed--not on Heero, but somewhere behind him.

Heero turned around to look. Sure enough... "Duo."

The gundam pilot twisted the end of his braid in his fingers--a nervous gesture Heero had never seen before on him. "Heero... can we talk? In private?"

Quatre put down his teacup and stood, looking away from the thick look that passed between the two. "Uh... Trowa and I are going to go take a walk... maybe join Wufei fishing." Flushing, he left to extricate his boyfriend from the other room.

Heero stood and followed Duo back to his room. Even though it was growing late, and shadows encased the entire room, he left the lights off.

There was an awkward pause.

"Well?" Heero finally asked, his tone a bit harsher than he intended.

"I... I've been having these... these feelings..." Duo began tentatively.

"Hn."

"And... I thought..." Becoming bold, Duo pushed him up against a wall.

Heero grunted in surprise and looked at the other's eyes. There was something funny about them--they were a little too something... "Duo, what are you--" His next words were cut off by a firm and gentle pressure to his lips.

The kiss was strange and slightly mechanical. Neither moved their lips, but Heero eventually relaxed enough to shut his eyes.

When Duo broke away, Heero stared at the other boy in shock. Those had been Duo's lips--like in the dream--but nothing like the dream. But still--Duo's lips--Duo was pressing him against--the wall was behind him--unyeilding--the wall--Duo--it--

He licked his lips absently and unblinkingly focused on the Shinigami pilot's eyes. Strange--they were so blue they seemed violet--actually, they _were_ violet--a very intense violet--_too_ violet--

"Duo?" he whispered to the other's nose, and unconsciously leaned in to try the kiss again.

Sharp, consuming pain twisted through his gut, and he choked down a scream. The Shinigami pilot moved back a step, an odd look on his face, as Heero tore his gaze from those damn purple eyes to look at the knife sticking out of his green tank top. It was unbelievable. As his body slumped to the floor, he touched the black plastic handle to make sure it was real. "Duo?"

He looked up at the American in the dim light, bewildered and a bit hurt. "Duo?"

The purple eyes gittered and seemed to glow with pride. "_Ninmu Kanryou._"

Heero grasped the knife handle in his stomach to pull it out, to strike back, to defend, to--

He promptly passed out.

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She took a bite of the apple and chewed thoughtfully, examining the vids on the screen. The formations were definitely something new, though the pattern seemed somewhat familiar. Was it Treize trying to be creative, Zechs attempting ingenuity, or something new and exciting?

Swallowing, she absently took another bite of the crunchy fruit.

Oh, how it bothered her! Something important was licking the back of her mind, something that would get this entire mess off her desktop and back to Wing Gundam pilot 01, where it belonged. It wasn't random--prime numbers only--but what _was_ that maneuver called??? And, where would someone learn it?

With an impatient sigh, she ran the clip again. Yes, sure enough, here came the expendibles _again_--honestly, why did Oz invest so much in mobile dolls that were so incredibly useless?--and down came Gundams 01, 02, 03, and 05, rushing to the aid of Gundam 04, and now the worthless mobile dolls were mobile doll kibbles and bits, due to the Great Almighty Deluxe Edition Gundams, and--

She stopped in mid-bite and paused the vid. Rewinding it a few bits, she watched the bit over and glared stonily at the screen. "What the--I can't believe it!" Pulling up an old vid, she played the two side by side.

It was unmistakable.

"Who the fuck is piloting Gundam 02?"

With a deep scowl, she pulled a text book of fencing techniques off the wall, thumbed to the third chapter, looked up the name, and wrote a scathing letter to Heero Yuy.

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When Heero came to, he was still propped up against the wall. The clattering and clicking of typing was coming from the direction of his room, through the door that connected their two rooms, from his computer, so he pried his cottony eyes open and forced them to focus.

Duo was sitting at the keyboard, fingers flying as he assimilated the information.

What was Maxwell doing at his computer?

With a sigh, he slipped past consciousness again.

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It was twilight when Duo finally reached Quatre's hideaway. He was smelly, dirty, bruised, and cut all over, and his body ached in so many places that he wanted to cry.

He thought about going through the front door, but he really just wanted to skip the explanation and hide under his bed for a week. That not being an option, he'd settle for giving Heero the short version, showering, and falling asleep before he had to expand to the long version. If he talked about it, he'd have to think about it, and he _really_ didn't want to think about it.

So he climbed through his window.

The room was dark, shadows crawling over the furniture, and he briefly considered turning on a light. Nah, too much trouble, he decided, and promptly stubbed his toe.

"Ah!" he cried, hopping up and down and fumbling for a light switch. "Son of a three toed monkey bitch!"

Light flooded the room, and he squinted and blinked before adjusting to the brightness.

And then he gasped. "Heero?"

The other Gundam pilot lay in a puddle of his own blood, a knife protruding from this abdomen. Sickened, Duo rushed to his side. "_Heero!_" he breathed again, pulling out the knife and yanking a random shirt from the ground and pressing it tightly to the wound. Breathing deeply, he found his voice. "Everyone! Hurry! Help! Help!"

Silence was his only answer.

"Help!" he screamed. "_GET UP HERE RIGHT NOW!!_"

One hand firmly pressing down with the shirt, he raised his other to check Heero's pulse. Weak, but present.

"C'mon Heero--wake up--look at me--Yuy--C'mon you bastard--don't you die--Heero--you son of a bitch--don't you die--Heero..."

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They had just entered the door when they heard Duo's screams. Quatre, already paled from the intense vision from his Uchuu no kokoro, turned ashen. The three men exchanged a hurried glance before racing for the stairs. They pounded up in a herd, each fighting to arrive first. They threw the door open to Heero's room--nothing. Racing next door, they flung wide the door--and froze.

Duo was pressing a stained shirt to Heero's abdomin, muttering frantically, and trying to hold back tears. "He was stabbed!" he cried. "I came into the room, and he was lying here! Stabbed!" He stared at Heero's paling face. "Don't just stand there! Somebody call for help!"

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The waiting room was silent except for the squeak of the nurses' rubber soles on the bleached-clean linolium floor and the whine of the gurneys as the tired wheels struggled to remain attached to the legs as they were pushed from room to room.

Quatre squeezed Trowa's hand a little tighter and leaned into the other boy's shoulder. He ached for Duo. The other boy had broken down for a moment after the paramedics arrived, before shoving the pieces of his broken spirit back into place and adopting the calm depression that he was still in now. He was sitting across from them, away from everyone, with his head bowed and firmly in his hands. He hadn't moved since they arrived, but Quatre seriously doubted that he was asleep.

The thing that bothered Quatre the most, however, was Duo's denial that he had seen the attacker. Duo claimed that he hadn't seen anybody; that he had simply walked into his room and found Heero lying there. The problem was, however, that Duo was _covered_ in bruises and cuts. He looked like he'd been through hell--and those injuries hadn't been there before Quatre and Trowa had left. They were new and explainationless. He had shied away from asking Duo about them in respect for his upset about Heero, but it was expanding to rediculous porportions in Quatre's imagination, and needed to be put to rest. With a final peck on his boyfriend's cheek, Quatre rose and moved to Duo's side.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Duo didn't raise his head. "Hey, Quatre."

"You okay?"

Duo shifted slightly. "Been better."

"Duo... who hurt you?"

A bitter laugh came from the bowed head, and Duo shifted enough to see Quatre from behind his arms. "Now that's a loaded question."

Reaching over, Quatre gently pressed an agitated-looking cut.

Duo yelped and twitched away a little. "Touché. That individual little sucker was a present of Guard Number Three, Mr. Big and Hairy."

He frowned. "Who?"

Duo continued on, as if unable to stop. "The bruises on my ribs and legs are curtesy of Mr. Broken Tooth. The cuts and bruises on my back and forehead--oh, and let's not forget the big Daddy of all bruises on my neck--are reminders of my personal favorite of the guards, Mr. Bony Ankles. And who could ignore the fun markings on--in--" he broke off and began to shake with suppressed tears, pain, and rage.

Quatre stared at him, confused. "I thought you didn't see anybody."

Duo lifted one bleary eye to look at Quatre. It was surprisingly bloodshot. "I wish I hadn't."

The Arabian was definitely confused. "But you said you didn't see Heero--"

"You think this happened when I found Heero?" the incredulation that colored his voice took Quatre aback.

"When else could it have happened?"

Duo eyed him. Was the boy stupid? "Well, I _have_ been missing for a while," he suggested, a bit sarcastically.

Quatre exchanged a glance with the onlooking Trowa and Wufei. "What are you talking about?"

An angry glint sparkled over his face. "What do you mean, what am I talking about? How could you not notice?" He stood up and backed away, suddenly eyeing the other Gundam pilots. "Why are you guys looking at me like that? You didn't notice I was gone?"

Wufei scowled. "You weren't gone, you idiot. I distinctly remember you making coffee this morning."

"Coffee?!" Duo exclaimed. "I haven't made coffee for a month! You complained too much last time!"

"You were whining about the mission we had yesterday," Trowa said calmly.

"Mission?!" He surveyed the three boys and shook his head. "You're all insane! Death doesn't take this! Shinigami is leaving. You're all insane."

Trowa paused. "Shinigami? You haven't spoken your gundam's name for the past two weeks or so."

"I haven't been _around_ for the past two weeks or--" he grabbed his side with a gasp and fell to one knee.

Wufei, being the closest, checked him over first. "He's seriously wounded," the boy reported grimly. "His injuries are infected, and he has a fever."

"Help!" Quatre called to a passing nurse. "Our friend needs medical attention!"

The nurse frowned as she saw Duo, and immediately called to another passing nurse. "Bring a stretcher and call Dr. Karl off his break!"

As Duo was taken away, Trowa held back one of the nurses by the arm. "I think you should use a rape kit."

She nodded curtly and followed the stretcher, leaving a gasping Quatre and a scowling Wufei to help Trowa fill out the paperwork.

Coming up beside his lover, Quatre touched his shoulder. "Trowa--you really think...?

Images flashed through Trowa's head, and he briefly closed his eyes against the sudden influx of information. Duo, sitting gingerly. Duo, shying from touch. Duo--"Yes."

Quatre shivered and gripped his lover tightly around the waist. "Oh, Duo..." He buried his face in Trowa's chest.

Trowa's arms came up to gently cradle the shivering Quatre, but his eyes were steadily fixed on the door the doctors and nurses had rushed Duo through.

Wufei scowled darkly and muttered something about a lack of decent justice.

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Heero glared at the nurse, his hands still outstretched and face commanding her to relinquish the tool.

She held it just out of reach. "We have to have rules about this, Mr. Yuy. You may only use it during specified hours, or it may destroy the delicate callibrations on the equipment we have here. Also, you need rest. Your body had a shock, and if your friends hadn't found you so quickly, you would have bled to death. So, if I let you use this computer, it must be on my terms, understand?"

"_Aa._"

She placed the computer in his hands. "You can use it until 2:30, and then you have to nap. Got it?"

He grunted unhappily and flicked it on, dismissing her with the turn in his attention.

"Nurse Kevin will be in to check your medications in a bit. If I find out you gave him any lip--and I will find out, believe me--I will personally confiscate that piece of junk. See you later, Mr. Yuy."

Heero glared at her retreating back before returning his attention to his precious laptop. He wasn't going to think about Maxwell. He was going to find the answer to the tactics riddle, hack into the Oz database and steal information, and perhaps schedule a mission or two--

He shifted his weight a little and winced as the gaping hole in his abdomen screamed its existence. Well, maybe the mission would have to wait...

Love was confusing to Heero Yuy. It wasn't something he had been on either the giving or recieving end of for his entire life, so his experience was limited to what could be gleaned from second-hand observation and knowledge.

He had found it a strange master, intimidating and controlling, and perhaps a wee bit unpredictable, but he had never heard of anyone stabbing the one they loved. That just wasn't lover-like behavior. For example, look at Quatre and Trowa. They were always touching each other and looking each other--but they didn't try to stab each other. Even when they fought--seldom, to be sure, but not unheard of--they did not deal with concealed weapons. Maybe it was a strange custom from L2--

"You're rationalizing," he warned himself. Duo did not stab you because he loves you, he stabbed you because it was his mission. But, why would the scientists want Heero dead? And, did Duo love him? If he could have, he would have glared at himself; this was not the mental set of the Perfect Soldier.

Ah, a reply from LazerEye. Opening it up, he absorbed the answer and began to mentally plan, carefully reading over the material she had sent him.

He paused when he got to the end paragraph. What the...? The pilot of Shinigami was still Duo! Well, maybe not after Heero got better and beat the shit out of him, but for now Duo was still Death.

Noticing that her computer was still hooked up to the network, he initiated conversation and her picture blinked onto screen. "Yuy," acknowledged her breathy voice.

"Duo Maxwell is still the pilot of gundam 02," he reported.

She shook her chubby face, and two vidclips appeared at the bottom of her image. They began to play side by side, looping so that the images repeated the initial clips over and over again. "Watch," she advised. "There's a different pilot in that machine. The style is completely different. Watch how the first pilot uses the Sythe most of the time, while the second pilot relies mainly on guns, which are 02's secondary weapon system only, and pretty piss-poor useless. Notice the full utilization of the agility verses the struggling to master complex maneuvers. That second pilot is completely inept. These are different people, Yuy."

"Impossible," he replied woodenly, still reviewing the evidence before him. "I saw him enter his Gundam on this date. I also saw him exit it. I was with him the entire time."

She glowered, not used to being challenged. "Hey, stuff like this doesn't lie."

The clips re-started themselves. "Alternative conclusions?"

Her fingers began to skate over the keyboard, and a look of absent concentration covered her face. Suddenly, she looked back at the camera in surprise. "You're in the hospital!"

He glared.

"A knife wound?" Her look was almost amused.

"This is not relevent," he intoned.

"No, but it _is_ interesting," she responded, back in the database she'd hacked into. "Did you know there's a Mr. Duo Maxwell nested down in Intensive Care?"

   [1]: mailto:black_cassima@hotmail.com



	2. The Virus

Immunity, part 2 Immunity (cont.) By [Cassima][1]

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"...You're a little horsey, aren't you?" the man leered, snapping the whip in his hands. "Such a good little horsey..."

Duo whimpered and tried to cover his eyes, but his hands had suddenly become see-through. Even though his face was covered, his eyes shut, and his head pointed to the wall, he could see the lecherous intent in his captor's eyes, see the barbed, black leather whip in those scarred, calloused hands, see the way those hands were reaching for the zipper at his crotch--

With a swallowed cry, he awoke, taking a moment to realize that he wasn't in the place of his nightmares. It was too bright... and everything was colored sterile white. Plus, the unmistakable smell of Hospital permeated the area.

Turning his head to the side, he stifled a gasp.

Heero Yuy was sitting next to his bed, eyes unreadable, face its usual hard mask, in a wheelchair. An IV unit was attached to the back of his seat, and he was sitting a bit stiffly.

"Heero," he breathed. "You're okay! The doctors couldn't tell us anything, and then--" he paused, as if just realizing something. "Why am I on a bed? Did I fall asleep?"

"Infection," was all Heero would answer, solemnly handing him his chart.

Duo stared at it uncomprehensively as his brain refused to function. "Oh." The chart fuzzed before his eyes, and he set it down on his lap a bit wearily. He guessed that, since none of the other pilots seemed to be around, it hadn't been too bad of an infection. All he remembered was finding Heero lying there, telling the others to hurry their asses up and call an ambulance already, watching the paramedics do their stuff. After that, things seemed to be a blur of hospital waiting. He dimly remembered holding medical forms for Heero, and hoped the others hadn't let him write down anything vastly important on the other's healthcare papers.

"But you're alright?" he decided to clarify, feeling a little foggy.

Heero gave him the full Death Gaze to A Blind Moron look. "I was stabbed."

"Oh, yeah," Duo recalled sleepily as the drugs began to kick in again. "Who did that again?"

"You did," Heero told the sleeping boy, a little more unsure than the moment before.

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LazerEye was determined to prove her point. The infallible Yuy had a flaw in logic, and she felt the need to show off--prove that she really _did_ have brains, that her skills weren't limited to research. It wasn't as if they argued often; in fact, they rarely conversed unless something extremely complex had to be discussed. She was a fount of information, a product of excruciating boredom, and he simply applied said information. There was never any doubt as to whom was right, for there was never debate.

But her convictions were hardly ever wrong, and she felt annoyed that he dare question her information, so she continued to hack away at the Oz database for any mention of Duo Maxwell. She worked as fervantly on the computer as she did on the bowl of mashed potatoes cradled in her lap.

A report on Gundam 02 was brought up, casually mentioning towards the end that Maxwell was the pilot. Another report flickered to life determining the personality and background of the boy. A few more boring, unrelated bits popped up--the military truely deserved the yawns donated to its cause--until, on a whim, she used the keyword "braid".

It gave her the creeps, and she struggled to swallow a lump of potatoes with a suddenly dry, pinched throat.

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Heero frowned and rolled back towards his room for a nap of his own. This Duo had been different from the one that trapped him to his wall earlier, holding him and kissing him tenderly. This Duo was hauntingly familiar, the boy who had cracked jokes about his cooking and people skills, the boy who had cheerfully called his 100% Death Glare a "nice poker face". This Duo's eyes were deeper, with more layers than the solid purple on the other's. Even though drugged out of his mind, this Duo's eyes were still layered with fine coats of different shades of warmth, happiness, humor, and that ever-underlying pain of lonliness.

So, this Duo was real? What had the other been? Not a figment of his imagination--Heero Yuy didn't own an imagination capable of stabbing him. But, was there a person able to copy the movements of an obnoxious baka that acurately?

He didn't want to believe that he had been so thouroughly duped, and as his head hit his pillow, he couldn't stop himself from dreaming about an imaginary kiss with the Duo one floor down.

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Quatre sighed gently, and his partner stroked his fine hair again gently. "We should visit Heero."

The hand not stroking the blond head in Trowa's lap snaked out to clasp Quatre's tightly, but he did not otherwise respond.

Quatre squeezed the hand comfortingly. "I need answers. I need to know who stabbed him. I need to know out why it was so damn important that he have that dumb computer of his right after he woke up--I can see why Duo complains about it all the time. I need to tell him about... Duo." He closed his blue eyes in pain. "I need to see Duo."

"We'll go see Duo," Trowa promised. "As soon as the hospital calls to tell us he can have visitors. You know they don't want anyone around him while they're trying to kill the infection."

"I know." His voice was thick, he sighed. "But he's my friend," Quatre whispered, opening his eyes to look up at his lover. "I have to see him."

"You want to go back to the hospital?"

"Can we?"

Trowa thought for a moment. He didn't want to get Quatre's hopes up, but chances were favorable that they'd at least be able to talk to Heero. "Let's go tell Wufei."

The Arabian smiled brightly in surprise, grabbed Trowa's head, and pulled him in for a quick kiss. "Thank you."

He gave a shy smile. Quatre was really too cute for his own good.

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It was still within his "designated hours"--he glowered at the nurses audacity, even now!--so Heero opened his laptop and checked the messages. There were two; the first was a mission... opening the file, he quickly scanned the contents. It was for Trowa and Quatre, lucky pair. He scowled and wished their own computers hadn't been blown up. It was a pain in the ass to be fielding missions for them _plus_ himself... besides, it made him jealous. At least _somebody_ got to leave this miserable Duo enigma for a day to blow up some Oz compound. No, he wasn't getting any missions until he was recovered enough, unfortunately, so he could lie here in this increasingly uncomfortable bed and wonder which Duo was which, if there even _were_ multiple Duos, and, if so, when and how they got switched. And, how could he get _his_ Duo back?

A duo of Duos. A dual Duo. He grunted at himself in a lack of amusement. Somebody somewhere was chuckling about this.

The other message was from LazerEye. Seeing as how she rarely brought good news, his face darkened a bit as he brought the contents onto the screen and began to read.

It was an Oz Progress Report, and it made a hard knot form in the pit of his stomach.

The report detailed a scientific development of a robot made to imitate a human being. It could be controlled by a complex chip containing a program that mimicked intelligence. The program allowed a robot to respond to external stimuli both vocally and physically.

Artificial intelligence. Heero supressed a shudder and unconsciously pulled the blanket on his lap up higher.

Even more chilling was the subject of the prototype: one Duo Maxwell, constructed from a stolen profile and intense observations, who had instructions to eliminate targets.

The number one target was, of course, one Heero Yuy.

The robot could recieve new programming over the internet--"The use of my computer," Heero realized belatedly--and all that was needed now was a chance to swap the real pilot for the doppleganger.

And, after all, the robot wouldn't be perfect; it was only the prototype, and it was near to impossible to predict every kind of cirmcumstances the Gundam Pilots could get themselves into. And Duo was such a vivid person that nothing could capture his intense personality well enough to fool Heero completely, especially not those cold, empty eyes...

"Mr. Yuy, you need to get off that computer now. We're starting the machines. And, you have some visitors," the nurse interrupted his thoughts, and disappeared.

With a grunt, Heero turned off the laptop and set it aside, mind still reeling from the sudden influx of information. They had kidnapped Duo in order to kill their damned Perfect Soldier. Well, Heero was sick of being their punching bag. He was going to stand up and march out to his Gundam and beat the living _shit_ out of Oz's secret artificial intelligence agency. He was going to _pound_ them. He was going to find the biggest, baddest, meanest, _nastiest_ explosives out there and--

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Quatre and Trowa entered the room to find Heero half-way out of bed, clutching his knife-wound, face white with pain.

"Heero!" Quatre cried, rushing to his side. Trowa was right beside the blond, and they both pushed him back into bed. "What do you think you're doing?"

Heero attempted to glower at them, but the effect was ruined by the agony in his twisted scowl and eyes.

"Heero--" Quatre began to ask with a look to Trowa.

"You two have a mission," Heero interrupted. "You have a compound to destory." He quickly fed them all the details of their excursion, tempted to switch the coordinates of their compound with the ones of the Artificial Intelligence base. More than tempted, actually--but that went against his training.

A doctor appeared at the doorway. "Are you three friends of Mr. Maxwell?"

Trowa and Quatre started, looking guilty that they hadn't yet told Heero of Duo's hospitalization.

"Hai," Heero answered for all three of them, startling the other two boys. He already knew? They exchanged a glance and shrugged slightly. Who could tell how Heero got all his information so quickly?

"I'm Dr. Umeno," the Japanese woman said, "Mr. Maxwell's doctor. I treated him for severe bruising, lacerations on his chest, legs, and arms, some internal bleeding, a few cracked ribs, and infection. We heard there was a suspicion of rape, and I believe that is a correct assessment. Some of his injuries are weeks old and some are quite new--perhaps a few days." She paused to glance at her chart.

Quatre glanced between Trowa and Heero. His boyfriend's eyes had narrowed, but Heero's face remained a mask, impenetrable to Quatre's untrained eye. The blond felt confused anger, though. How dare someone hurt Duo like that! And, how dare he not realize Duo was hurt! Two weeks! This had been going on for two weeks? Why didn't... how come...?

It wasn't fair.

Dr. Umeno looked from face to face. "Can you tell me how he recieved these injuries?"

There was silence as the three boys exchanged a look.

==========================================================

Duo stared at the ceiling, silently counting the dots. After he was forced to restart five times in a row, he gave up and sighed.

It was no fun being sick.

No one had come to visit him since that one surreal visit from Heero, not even Quatre. He hurt all over, and he couldn't stop from remembering the nightmare of his past couple weeks, over and over and over again. It was ruining his sleep, not to mention his cheery facade.

Oh, hell, who was he kidding? Frankly, his cheery facade was a flimsy mockery of its usual strength, and no one but the walls was here to see it, so he might as well let go, right? Stop kidding himself...

Turning his aching head, he stared at the window, not really looking at the night sky. A few tears slipped out, but he managed to keep himself from flirting with self-pity for too long. Time for some rational analysis.

He let out a stream of cusses.

Well, maybe not rational, but it definitely seemed to help. One question had been bugging him for a while: why did they take him?

He shuddered.

Okay, yeah, there was the--he swallowed--but Oz didn't kidnap a Gundam pilot just to play "ride the little horsey". Besides, the other pilots hadn't seemed particularly surprised or worried when he'd shown up back at Quatre's home. Well, not worried about _him_, anyway. A little about Heero, maybe, but they kind of ignored him.

Funny, he'd always hoped that they'd come charging in with the calvary if he'd been captured, especially since those bastards had gotten his gundam... his precious Shinigami...

He allowed himself to brood over the loss of his gundam for a moment. Another friend a casualty of war...

Mentally, he made a note to dedicate a bottle of some damn good vodka to that magnificent creature.

But, on to something else. Back to that puzzle...

What was it? Oh, yeah, nobody noticed he was gone. And no one noticed that he had been tortured. Didn't they care that he could've given away some vital information? They should have at least cared enough to put him out of his misery... Was a nice shot in the head too much to ask? Even from Heero Yuy?

It didn't fit. Quatre was a nice guy; he didn't like hurting enemies, much less allowing his friends to be hurt. And Trowa would help his Arabian lover. Sure, maybe Heero wouldn't want to get involved in rescuing such an annoyance--and Wufei might see some sort of ironic justice in his fate, but Quatre--

But it was pointless to think on such things.

He sighed again and decided to sleep some more. His injuries were aching again, and he could feel his eyelids falling as if there was some sort of magnetic attraction between them and his chin. "Heero's right," he muttered out loud. "I'm such a baka."

"Still talking to yourself, Maxwell?"

Turning his head slowly to avoid jarring his throbbing neck, he looked back towards the door. "Wufei?"

The Chinese boy wore the slight smirk-ish frown of his that bugged the hell out of Duo. "I want to know what happened," he said flatly.

Duo blinked his eyes sleepily. "What?"

Wufei glanced over him, noting his hidden exhaustion. "Hn. Later."

"When did what happen, Wu-chan?" He wrestled a yawn down.

"Don't call me that." His eyes seemed to soften for a moment with worry. "Go to sleep. We'll talk later."

"But--"

"Duo, sleep."

"But what if they come back...?" he murmured, prying his eyes back open. "Every time I shut my eyes I can see--"

"Go to sleep, Duo." Wufei's voice was gentle in his ear. Duo could feel his hand stroke his mussed hair. "I'll keep watch."

Well, who was Duo to argue? Obediantly, he shut his eyes and sighed. The tension he hadn't realized he was holding drained out of his limbs and he fell asleep.

==========================================================

Heero silently cursed the limits the doctors had placed on his computer. Dumb doctors. Didn't they realize how important it was for him to squeeze every little drop of information about this nasty project he had just discovered from Oz's bulging databases?

Idiots, all of them. He should hack into their computer system and start deleting random files, just to spite them. Yeah, that would show 'em!

... No, he couldn't do that; there's no way he could figure out what the hell was going on if the hospital was in complete chaos. Besides, something might go wrong with his friend a couple floors down, and then how would Heero ever be able to live with himself?

Fine, then. He'd just go visit Duo, that's all. And he'd bring his gun, just in case the robot was real.

Pleased with his decision-making skills, he began the decent from bed. Heero eyed the wheelchair distastefully and began to walk out of his room.

"I don't _think_ so, Mr. Yuy," a sharp voice interrupted his trek.

He turned to glare at Nurse Kevin.

"Look, just use the chair, okay? If you rip your stiches out, we'll be forced to confine you to bed."

Grudingly, he eased into his wheelchair and began the pain-staking roll down the hall, ignoring Kevin's sigh of relief.

"Need a hand, Mr. Yuy?" one of the female nurses asked wryly.

"_Iie._" He gave them a disapproving frown. 

She tried to hide her smile. "If you say so. Don't be pulling any of those stitches, though; Dr. Kaftan would kill you."

"Hn." He manuevered himself to the elevator and pressed the "Door close" button in her face.

==========================================================

He rolled into Duo's room awkwardly and decided to stay for a while. He'd never admit it out loud, but he needed a breather. His gut was throbbing, his muscles felt shakey, and he actually felt a little tired. He'd never admit it, but--good thing Nurse Kevin had forced him to use the chair; he couldn't have made it here on his own.

Heero pulled up next to Duo's bed with a sigh. Everytime he came, Duo was asleep. The baka was probably planning it that way.

He looked at Duo's peaceful face. He looked so innocent when asleep--not nearly so annoying as when he was awake. His lips looked so soft, and his cheek--

Heero pulled his hand away just in time. No! He would not give in!

"Just a little touch," a voice in the back of his head nagged. "What could it hurt? Just a hand on his cheek... and one smoothing of his hair."

No! He would not give in! Even though Duo _did_ definitely look soft and pleasant to the touch...

"I bet his hair is sleek," the voice teased. "Bet it's soft, and smells like honey and oranges."

Unwillingly, Heero leaned closer and took a deep breath. Oh, yes, a hint of oranges... the nurse must have washed his hair with his own shampoo...

"Wonder how he looks after sex?" came the sly poke from the voice. "His hair cascading behind him, nose nuzzling your neck, eyes full of love?"

Heero shivered and allowed his hand to gently stroke Duo's cheek, almost reverently. Like velvet...

"Heero Yuy," a real voice said cheerfully from the doorway, yanking him out of his tender mood. "Still lusting after Duo? Some people never learn."

He turned in his wheelchair to find Duo leaning against the door frame, grinning brightly and hat askew on his head. Heero scowled and raised his gun from his lap.

"What, you're gonna shoot me? After all we've shared?" The Duo by the door pulled out a gun of his own and aimed at Heero. "That's way harsh, man." Leaping over lightly, he knocked the weapon out of Heero's tired grasp and shoved his own piece against the wounded boy's forehead. "I've come to finish the job, Yuy. You should know by now, Duo Maxwell always finishes what he starts."

"You're not Duo," Heero told him coldly.

"But I am," came the sing-song voice. "I am Duo Maxwell."

Heero's wound began to pulse, and his attempts to hit the Duo robot away were entirely unproductive. It was like using a toothpick against Wing Zero: absolutely ineffective.

"Say goodnight." The fake Duo's dull purple eyes seemed to shine with an unholy light as his finger began to pull the trigger.

There was a grunt and the sound of crunching metal as the robot froze and slowly crumpled to the ground. Wufei pulled his sword out of the twisted mess and finished knocking off the head. "Justice," he informed the remains of the robot coldly.

"Wufei," Heero acknowledged.

Wufei sheathed his sword with a "shnick". "It was dishonorable, to attack the wounded. Such lack of honor makes one weak."

Heero nodded. Lucky thing Wufei had been nearby. "Get rid of it." He gestured at the pile of metal and plastic sparking by Duo's bed.

Wufei nodded and began to further disassemble it.

With a nod of satisfaction, Heero turned back to Duo. Amazing how that boy could sleep through almost anything...

==========================================================

There. It was done. With a final nod of approval, Wufei watched as the final pieces went through the scrapper to be melted down into an ex-Duo square chunk.

He smiled. Good riddance; one Duo was enough noise and nonsense. Besides, he had to return to his post. He had, after all, promised, and Chang Wufei never breaks a promise.

Someone needed to guard those two while they healed. They obviously needed it.

Besides, it's what friends do.

He smiled. It was good to have friends.

   [1]: mailto:black_cassima@hotmail.com



	3. Vaccine

Immunity, part 3 Immunity (cont.) By [Cassima][1]

==========================================================

"It's about time."

Duo blinked sleepily, looking to the side of his bed where the grumpy voice had originated from. "Heero?"

Heero was calm as ever, his eyes the same distant cool that Duo remembered, his expression hard and unforgiving.

"How are you feeling, Heero?" Duo asked quickly, struggling to sit up and wipe the sleep from his eyes. "How's the wound? Is it bad? When will you be able to leave? When can _I_ leave? Where're Quatre and Trowa and Wufei? What day is it?"

Heero's head spun for a moment with the barrage of questions, but he nailed the ones he remembered first. "Thursday, a mission--" loosly speaking, Heero _had_ sent Wufei on a mission to destroy the remains of the robot--"--we're leaving soon as they clear us, I'm fine, and stop asking so many questions, baka."

Duo rolled his eyes. "You were _stabbed_ two days ago, but you're _fine_?! Why did I bother to bring you here? I should have just given you some dental floss and a rusty needle. 'Here, stitch yourself up! Sorry, no bones for you to set this time.'" He looked a little annoyed and actually a little depressed, too.

"What's wrong?"

Duo looked surprised. "Wrong? ... Nothing. I'm just..." he plastered on a cheery smile.

Heero didn't buy it for a moment. "Duo..." It was a warning.

The other boy's face fell, and the Shinigami pilot twisted the sheets in his hands for a moment. "I don't want to talk about it." He stared down, not wanting to meet his friend's eyes.

"I think you should." He put all of his patience into play, trying to remind himself that this was important, that _Duo_ was important.

Duo's fists tightened, and his voice was ragged and thick. "What do you want to know, Heero? You want to know how they had someone who sounds just like Hilde in danger lure me out of my gundam like the idiot I am and how they captured me with some stupid gas? You want to know how they kept me in cold, dark cell and played with me whenever they wanted--" he broke off, taking a deep breath. His eyes closed as he struggled with himself for control. When he spoke again, his voice was pinched, as if he were fighting off tears. "You want to know how I crushed his neck while he was on top of me, and escaped just to find nobody had even realized I was gone? 'Cause that's a long story." The pain in his voice was thick and barely restrained. "It's not a very nice one, either."

Heero felt himself quiver on the inside, and struggled to keep the block out of his stomach. Reaching out, he gently grabbed Duo's wrist. "We should have noticed, but Romafeller has gotten clever." When he knew he had Duo's attention, he began to speak, always quietly.

==========================================================

"General Treize, I'm sorry to interrupt, but this report just came in." The idealistic young man saluted smartly, placed the bulletin on his leader's desk, saluted again, and disappeared.

Treize frowned before picking up the report and scanning it.

"What is it?" his visitor asked curiously.

"One of our research facilities has just been destroyed." Treize calmly replaced the report on his desk.

"A gundam?"

He nodded.

The visitor frowned. "What was it this time? Are we being asked to retaliate?"

Treize shook his head. "It was the only site of the project 'Operation Braid'. I never liked that project to begin with; personally, I'm glad it's gone."

"Operation Braid?"

"A project dreamed up by those with no honor, Milliardo. It disguised itself as a friend and killed from the inside by manipulating hopes and dreams." He swished his wine around in the glass absently. "To tell you the truth, I'm glad it's gone."

"A robot?" The blond's delicate eyebrows shot up. "I didn't know our artificial intelligence had gotten so complex." He took a deep drink from his wine glass before pausing to assimilate the information. "Did any part of the project survive?"

Treize glanced over the report and shook his head in a self-satisfied way. "No. The scientists, the prototypes, the research, even the raw materials were destroyed by the gundam."

Zechs refilled his and Trieze's glasses. "Hopefully, that will put an end to further experiments of this type. Oz was lucky the research didn't fall into enemy hands."

Treize nodded and smiled at the other man. "Agreed."

==========================================================

Duo stood stiffly infront of Quatre's house, staring at the door. "So, what happens now?"

Quatre gave him a strange look. "We go inside and have dinner."

"And after that?"

"We go to bed." Maybe Duo should go back to the hospital for more tests, Quatre wondered to himself.

"And after that?" Duo whispered, suddenly looking forlorn and strange in his own body. "What happens when the missions start coming again?"

"We fight, for the colonies," Quatre answered, also quiet in his confusion.

"But... how can I fight?" Duo stared at his friend. "What is Shinigami without Deathscythe?"

Quatre paused to sort this out. "I don't understand."

Duo sighed. "Nevermind. Just..." The pain in his eyes was replaced with good cheer. "Let's go eat! Wufei was going to cook some noodley thing with a recipe that had been passed down from generation to generation type-thing, and Trowa threw a fit 'cause it had peprika in it--and we all know how Trowa reacts to peprika--so Wufei went all Justice-Boy and..."

Quatre smile slightly and followed Duo into the house, feeling in a slightly unnerved manner that nothing had really been resolved.

==========================================================

Well, his decision had been made. Duo set his mouth as he lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He'd break the news really gently to Dr. G and head back to L-2 with his braid between his legs.

If he couldn't pilot Shinigami, then he didn't want to be taunted by the other gundams. Not even if it meant being by Heero.

God, but he'd miss the others. They were the only family he had--lousy, disfunctional family at that, but, after all, family was family--and he'd miss their companionship. Ruefully, he looked back on all the times he'd wished for _anyone_ else to be the other pilots. Foolish. "Baka," he said outloud, ruining the comfortable silence in the room. If Trowa knew what he was thinking, he'd scowl. Quatre'd probably give him that sticken look--the one that none of them could fight. Wufei'd really kick his ass--give him some kind of speech that would turn into one of his un-ending justice rants. And Heero...

Well, who knew what Heero'd do? Heero probably wouldn't even react at all. Heero would sit there at his damn computer and not hear a word Duo said. It was maddening, being ignored so fervently. Well, no more of that. Duo chuckled bitterly. Nope, the days of being ignored were over now. "Lucky me."

"Don't you ever stop talking?"

Duo's eyes darted over to the doorway where Heero leaned against the frame. "Nope," he declared with something slightly resembling cheer.

Heero's customary scowl deepened, and Duo got the impression he'd done something unforgivably wrong.

The Japanese boy's gaze fell upon Duo's packed bag next to his bed. "You going somewhere?"

Duo looked back at the ceiling. "Thought I might."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?" Good, good, slightly bored was good. Strong.

"Why?" The word seemed to almost rip out of Heero's throat, and Duo, confused, turned back to his friend.

"Why?" he echoed dumbly.

With a couple strides, Heero was at the side of the bed, grabbing Duo's arm. "You can't go yet. Not after..."

"But, that's why I have to go," Duo told him, puzzled. "I'm no good anymore. I'll just be redundant."

"But we need you!"

"You don't need me! You need--"

"Don't tell me what I need!" Heero snapped.

"But I can't do anything!" Duo cried, bewildered.

Heero paused. "Nothing?"

Duo looked down at his hands. "Not enough."

Heero swallowed. "Where will you go? In case we need Shinigami?"

"I'm not Shinigami!" Duo yelled, drawing away. "Not anymore! How can I be Death when--"

"Duo..." Heero grabbed the trailing braid and gave it a good hard yank to keep him in place.

"Stop it!" Duo raised his hands to Heero's shoulders, angrily trying to push him away.

He pulled the braid towards him until he and Duo were nose to nose. "Don't be an idiot," Heero said coldly. "What happened... that doesn't change who you are. You're the same person as before. You're stronger than that. Don't let those bastards break you." He shook the handful of hair, realized what he was doing, and stroked it absently in apology. "Don't run away, Duo. Not from us. We're your friends. We'll help."

Duo held Heero in place to keep him from escaping. "How? How can you possibly help?"

The other pilot looked down, studying the bedspread. "I..." Taking a deep breath, he mumbled, "What I said about the robot catching me in my sleep? It wasn't true." Leaning in, he gently pressed his lips to Duo's.

Duo gasped into the awkward kiss, then sighed and relaxed, deepening it a little. His hands relaxed on Heero's shoulders before sliding to his hair and back, pulling him closer as Heero's hands unconsciously pulled Duo closer. Duo suckled lightly on Heero's lower lip, and Heero opened his mouth. The braided pilot began to caress Heero's tongue with his own, and the two pulled closer together as Heero responded in kind and the kiss began to rise in intensity.

Finally, Heero pulled away to catch his breath. "I can't do this if it'll just remind you of that."

Huh? "Why would this remind me of--?" Duo blinked, breathing hard and mind spinning. "What are you talking about?"

Heero blinked. "Your... time in Oz. What are _you_ talking about?"

"Shinigami."

Heero sweatdropped. "What?"

==========================================================

Heero could see Duo look down, and even from his great distance he could see the smile in the boy's eyes. "Shinigami lives!" he cackled from his perch on the giant mecha's shoulder. "Watch out, world, 'cause here we come!"

"Baka," Heero muttered, though fondly. Crossing his arms, he leaned back on the wall to observe the braided maniac scamper all over his precious Deathscythe, making sure all the little nuances hadn't been neglected in his absence. So much energy in one person! It was enough to drive a guy crazy... 

"Crazy... I'm crazy for feelin', so lonely..." Duo caroled merrily from inside the cockpit as he looked for little Oz devices. "I'm crazy... Crazy for feelin' so blue... I knew you'd love me as long as you wanted and someday, you'd leave me for somebody new..." A small tangle of wires and some plastic box-like object came arching out of the hole, landing with a thump a couple meters from Heero's foot. "Worry, why do I let myself worry?" A similar set landed a couple feet away, as Duo cheerfully did some "Spring cleaning" on his gundam. "Wondering, 'What in the world did I do?'"

Heero felt a smile creep to his lips as he patiently waited for the baka to finish. _This_ was the Duo he knew and tolerated. _This_ felt right.

Unconsciously, his fingers ghosted over his lips, remembering how it felt to surprise Duo with that kiss. How it felt for Duo to take control, as Heero always knew he would, and thread their shared passion through the brief touch. How it felt to hold Duo's face, stroke his hair--

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. It was one thing to have hormones, but to think about the weight of a braid of hair? The sleekness? The gentle citrus of that vitamin-enhanced shampoo he used?

Fantasies of Duo in the shower danced lightly across his mind for a moment.

"Listen to your feelings," a monotone voice repeated.

He cast Trowa a curious glance, carefully guarding his secrets. "Excuse me?"

"Just trust me on this," Trowa told him, in his usual quiet tone. "It's a lot simpler to just give in and let yourself love."

"Aa." Heero looked back the cockpit of Deathscythe as another set of wires came cascading out.

Quietly, Trowa followed his gaze.

"Crazy, for thinking that my love could hold you," Duo's voice echoed through the otherwise silent Gundam Garage. "I'm crazy for tryin', and crazy for cryin', and I'm crazy for lovin' you."

Heero couldn't quite chase the smile from his eyes. "Baka," he murmured sternly, almost fondly.

Trowa's lips held traces of a smile.

"Trowa!" Quatre called from the doorway. "What are you doing in--oh, hello, Heero." He smiled. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Take that, Oz scum!" Duo yelled triumphantly, disconnecting another piece of Oz circuitry and hurling out the hatch. It landed and slid, finally coming to rest by Quatre's feet.

The Arabian bent down to pick it up, turning it over in his graceful hands. "We really came close to blowing it this time." Lowering his gaze from Heero's, he bowed his head. "Gomen, Heero. I should have realized... I should have known that Duo wasn't... Duo wouldn't..." He closed his eyes. "I shouldn't have dismissed your concerns like that. Gomen."

"Hn," Heero replied, a little scornfully. "It wasn't your fault Oz's technology was so good. Don't be an idiot."

Quatre smiled, eyes shining as he looked back up. "Thank you, Heero."

"I'm crazy for tryin', an' I'm crazy for cryin', an' I'm crazy for lovin' you," Duo warbled, and swung gracefully out of Deathscythe to look down at his surprise audience. "Uh... hi, guys," he said with a hint of red tinging his face.

"Goodnight, Duo!" Quatre called, taking Trowa's arm and waving at the American.

"Night, Quatre! Trowa! Have fun!" He waggled his eyebrows at the couple before sliding down the leg of his gundam.

Trowa, looking a little red himself, mumbled something to Heero before taking flight with his grinning boyfriend.

"Oi, Heero," Duo remarked cheerfully, "you didn't have to wait up for me!"

"Baka," Heero said, not sounding at all as menacing as he would have hoped. "Of course I did."

"Poor Heero, having to listen to my singing. Of course, gotta make sure I'm not a Duo-bot," the pilot conceded with a touch of a cocky grin.

"Well, that..." Heero said, "and I wanted a goodnight kiss."

Duo smiled, a genuine no-shadows-attached smile that poured from his eyes and lips. "You're serious? You really like me?"

Heero smiled. "Baka," he said, and leaned in to take his lips.

Duo met the challenge in the kiss gladly, nipping and caressing the other's tongue with equal fervor. His hands reached up, one to pull Heero's wonderful mouth closer, the other to slide up the muscular back.

The other pilot moaned into Duo's mouth, one hand massaging the precious braid. His other hand was indecisive, and Heero allowed it--without a great deal of reluctance--to rub up and down his lover's torso and neck, feeling the bone and muscle ripple under his fingers at their touch, the scabbing markings of his escape pulsing lightly. "Duo," he tried to moan, but it came out as a garbled prayer.

Duo broke it off suddenly, panting heavily and resting his forehead on Heero's. "Oh, wow," he breathed, arms shifting to hold Heero tight, careful of the healing wound. "Oh, God."

Heero was out of breath also, but privately echoed those statements. _This_ was the way it was supposed to be. _This_ was how it was supposed to feel, tingly all over and suddenly _alive_. 

It was the best experience he could remember, right up there with the first time he had piloted Wing and done five loop-to-loops in a row to test it out, and the time he had eaten an entire carton of mint-chocolate chip ice cream. Duo's hair was addicting, and he suddenly found himself at the side of his head, nose right next to his ear. He gripped the other boy tightly, possessively, basking in Duo's perpetual heat.

"If you turn out to be a robot, _omae o korosu_," he whispered in his ear.

Duo chuckled. "Same here, buddy."

Heero, dispite the comfort of his position, was suddenly reminded that they both had only recently been discharged from the hospital, and were under strict orders to "get plenty of rest". Of course, a perfect soldier didn't need rest, but holding Duo would be a lot more comfortable lying down in a bed, and Duo could sleep while he just rested his eyes... "Let's go to bed."

Duo happily agreed, sleep suddenly accosting him at its mere mention. "Can we share?" He nuzzled his nose into the other boy's shoulder.

Heero felt a true, genuine smile play on his lips, and he crushed it out of habit with sheer willpower before gently wrapping an arm around Duo's hips. "I'd like that."

   [1]: mailto:black_cassima@hotmail.com



End file.
